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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24506785">a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linisen/pseuds/Linisen'>Linisen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>YOI AU Week 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18OI AU Week 2020: Day 7, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Free day, Grief/Mourning, Historical, I swear no one dies, M/M, Misunderstandings, Presumed Dead, Regency, Smut, Victorian, no one dies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:35:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24506785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linisen/pseuds/Linisen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor did not think much of it when he saw the column in the paper about the shipwreck that had washed ashore in Margate, Kent, carrying French flags. It did not say where the ship was traveling from beyond that, and perhaps that was why Victor did not think to put more weight to it, the information slipping his mind as soon as he flipped the page. It was not uncommon for ships to capsize, and even though it was a tragedy, the column was so small Victor disregarded it, and deemed it unimportant. At least it seemed that way, until the following week when faced with new information on the matter.</p><p>“It is a terrible tragedy the whole affair, but to lose someone as young as Mr. Katsuki,” Mr. Cialdini said with a sigh, and Victor turned almost helplessly, unable to hold back from interrupting them.</p><p>“I beg your pardon Mr. Cialdini, but to what are you referring?” Victor asked, a nervousness unknown to him before this moment growing in his chest. </p><p>“The shipwreck that washed ashore in Margate last week,” Mr. Crispino said curtly. “Apparently young Mr. Katsuki was on it.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>YOI AU Week 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>18OI AU Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the discord server 18+ on ice’s AU Week - day 7 - Free day - Historical AU. </p><p>The song Shrike by Hozier (which the title of the story is from) came on one day when I was driving to work, and this story unfolded in my mind. It hurts, but it gets better. </p><p>Beta read by the absolutely lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear">raedear</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Victor did not think much of it when he saw the column in the paper about the shipwreck that had washed ashore in Margate, Kent, carrying French flags. It did not say where the ship was traveling from beyond that, and perhaps that was why Victor did not think to put more weight to it, the information slipping his mind as soon as he flipped the page. It was not uncommon for ships to capsize, and even though it was a tragedy, the column was so small Victor disregarded it, and deemed it unimportant. At least it seemed that way, until the following week when faced with new information on the matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dining over at his friend Christophe Giacometti’s house, and the evening had been a pleasant one. They had settled down for brandy in the parlour when Mr. Cialdini brought up the matter, overheard only for the lull in the conversations around the room. The mention of a familiar name brought Victor’s attention from his current conversation to the one between Mr. Cialdini and Mr. Crispino, and he turned to listen further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a terrible tragedy the whole affair, but to lose someone as young as Mr. Katsuki,” Mr. Cialdini said with a sigh, and Victor turned almost helplessly, unable to hold back from interrupting them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg your pardon Mr. Cialdini, but to what are you referring?” Victor asked, a nervousness unknown to him before this moment growing in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The shipwreck that washed ashore in Margate last week,” Mr. Crispino said curtly. “Apparently young Mr. Katsuki was on it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Victor asked, even though he fully knew what the gentlemen were referring to. He could barely stomach the thought of it, and still he had to ask, he had to hear it spoken to fathom it at all as fear rushed in his veins. Mr. Crispino frowned, and in the crude way of his, tightened his jaw and arched an eyebrow, as if wondering if Victor had lost his senses. For once Victor could not fault him. He was well on his way to doing so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was presumed dead as soon as the ship washed ashore I believe,” Mr. Cialdini said, much more sympathy in his tone than Mr. Crispino showed in his body language. “A shame truly, he was a bright young man. He was in France to visit a good friend I believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr and Mrs. Nishigori,” Victor said without thinking, for he knew who it was Yuuri and his family had gone to see, to celebrate their wedding. Yuuri was meant to come home in a month, Victor knew, but since they could not share correspondence, he had not known that he had decided to already depart. He saw how the participants of the room were focused on him, on his curious behaviour. To them, he and Yuuri were nothing. To him, he and Yuuri were everything. “Did his family…?” Victor trailed off, he could not take the word into his mouth, could not voice what was truly his deepest fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I believe so. His sister might not have been on the journey back, since she lives in France, but I am not certain,” Mr. Cialdini said. “It is a tragedy nonetheless. They were a good family, with a good reputation. They will be missed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know all this?” Victor pressed urgently. He did not want to believe it, did not dare let the idea of never seeing the man he loved again to take root. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it from a good source close to the family,” Mr. Cialdini said. “I do not believe any bodies were found…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor did not hear the rest of the sentence, the image of Yuuri, his Yuuri, cold and lifeless, without that smile, the pink tint on his cheek, the liveliness of his gaze, unbearable. It became too much, all too much at once, and Victor stood, a hasty excuse falling from his lips before he rushed out. He was sure they wondered about his odd behaviour, wondered why he reacted in such a disgraceful manner, but Victor did not care about them, about his actions, his behaviour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world was falling around him, and Victor fell with it. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor fell in love with Mr. Yuuri Katsuki almost the moment they locked eyes. They had both come of age to attend society, and as they came together in a swirling dance, Yuuri’s movements were so lovely Victor could not look away. He had never been able to ever since. They pulled together like magnets, at each and every soiree, ball or dinner they attended together, Victor found himself pulled into Yuuri’s orbit, helplessly falling. No one made him feel as Yuuri did, with his sharp mind, kind sense but mindful disposition. They grew from teenagers to men, and as they did, Victor knew he was in love. Had it been up to him, they would have married many years ago. Now, he wondered what the point of waiting had been in the first place. To pay such a steep price for something that now felt tarnished and hollow seemed like sheer mockery. Victor had tried to have it all, and now he would have lived without the thing he valued the most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three years ago he had proposed to Yuuri under a willow tree, love confessions whispered into each other’s mouths as they shared their first kiss. Yuuri had blushed beautifully, and their joy had been almost palpable. They had known even then that they could not be open about it. Victor’s parents passed away when he was very young, and his grandfather raised him. A grandfather who had very strict ideas about Victor’s future, and who he should marry. A man from a low gentry family with a small dowry would certainly not do, and thus they had decided to keep it hidden. Victor was most grateful to his grandfather for many things, but he was raised in another time, with old fashioned values regarding marriage, and once he passed he and Yuuri could wed. It had always been the plan, Victor had the paperwork for the licence ready, it only needed to be handed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He supposed it would never be now. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor did the only thing he felt he could. He locked himself away in his estate on the other side of —shire, far from all he knew. To everyone who asked he said he was leaving to tend to business, but as he arrived he closed himself off, which had been the point from the start. Victor could not stand to look at them, for he knew he could never tell them of his sadness, never explain why his heart was crumbling in his chest. He stopped responding to letters, simply staring at the piles of correspondence that grew on the desk in the study. His friends worried for him, pleaded for him to answer on what had happened, why he would not respond, why he was acting in such a manner. His grandfather demanded his return, deeming it Victor’s duty to keep him company in his final years. Still, Victor did not answer them. He did not care about their opinions when his heart was in so much pain it felt like it was bleeding, each beat draining his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rose in the morning and dressed himself, not letting a valet help him. He ate what the cook had prepared for him, everything touching his tongue tasting like ash. Afterwards he walked out to the rocky cliffs close to the manor’s walls, and  stared out into the ocean. Some days Victor cursed it, screamed and shouted and cried, damning it for taking Yuuri from him. On other days he pleaded, wishing to give anything, everything so as to have Yuuri back in his arms. Some days he asked for it to take him too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything around him was dark, void of color or life, and he cursed himself for letting it become this way, furious with his younger self for caring about such shallow things as an inheritance. How he could be so foolish as to not see the delicacy of life, and how easily it could change, be taken. In weak moments he cursed Yuuri for not surviving, for getting on that boat, for taking his heart in the first place. He always hated those thoughts the most, and spent days afterwards staring at the engagement ring he had moved from the chain around his neck to his right ring finger, asking for forgiveness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None came. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to hide for months before Christophe clearly had enough, bursting into his sitting room one day with eyes wild and angry. Victor looked at him calmly, despite his friend's rushed entrance. Victor was hollow, numb to emotions. They stared at each other for a long moment, Christophe standing in the door while Victor sat on the sofa, trying to find his voice again. How long had it been since he spoke? He could not recall when he last utterned a word to another soul. Christophe’s expression turned from anger to worry, and Victor could see the tense energy drain out from him as he walked closer, sitting down on the couch opposite Victor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christophe,” Victor finally spoke, words feeling strange on his tongue. “I hope you are well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor, what has happened?” Christophe asked, gaze questioning but sympathetic. Victor looked away from him. “I do not understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing has happened,” Victor said with a sigh. “I am merely tending to some business here that needed to be looked into. I have kept terribly busy. I am sorry if I am behind in my correspondence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not believe you for a second,” Christophe said, and Victor dared not look at him. “Will you not tell me what is the matter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have. Nothing is the matter,” Victor said calmly. He was so incredibly tired of it all, body heavy and energy drained. Sharing anything about Yuuri felt like it would tarnish their memories, carried only by Victor now. At the same time he felt he was not worthy of it, to speak his name, to explain, to defend himself. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not come to talk about me,” Christophe tried, but Victor gave no answer. “Something happened that evening, when you were at dinner at the house. Will you tell me what it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not recall,” Victor sighed, even as the memory felt like a dagger to the heart, surprisingly painful in the void of his chest. “Forgive me, you know how my memory is so terribly flawed.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Christophe sighed, and Victor risked glancing towards him. He had his fingers laced together, palms pressed tight as he looked at Victor, as if trying to come up with something to say. Victor waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments passed, and then Christophe sighed again, before standing. “You are coming with me,” he said, and then proceeded to physically pull Victor from the couch. Victor gave little struggle. He was so drained, had nothing left in him. “If you refuse to speak I shall have to force you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christophe,” Victor tried, but he was being ushered out of the room towards the stairs, Christophe talking all the while as they went. In a way it was soothing, to hear someone else except his own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I am tired of this. I have been invited to a ball and you shall accompany me,” he stated firmly. Victor should argue he would be an unfit company in his state, but that would require explanations. He did not want to come, saw no need for it, but perhaps for Christophe he should. It did not matter much to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staying or going - neither would bring Yuuri back. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Society seemed much the same as when Victor had left it behind, with the same gossip, the same type of news, the same people. Victor greeted all that came up to him to converse, but he found it hard to keep his interest, and none stayed with him long as his mind drifted away from their conversation. Christophe had left him with a glass of wine next to the dance floor, and Victor watched the couples on it with a heavy heart. Yuuri had always been the most wonderful dancer, and Victor felt as though he would never be able to dance again, knowing he would never find himself in Yuuri’s arms on the dance floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything around him was a heavy mist of people speaking, music and laughter. It made Victor’s head feel like it weighed a ton, and he could not find any pleasure in it, even if events such as this were something he had previously enjoyed. Dresses swirled to the music, and Victor looked away towards the door, wondering if he could sneak out for some air, when his breath caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frame so familiar Victor would have known it anywhere walked into the room, wrapped in a fitted black tailcoat, white shirt and dark pants. His dark hair was swept back from his face, spectacles resting on his nose, and dark brown eyes sparkling and alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time seemed to stop as Victor looked at the hallucination — for surely that must be what he was seeing. He had gone mad, and now his mind made him see the love of his life walk through the doors. Conjured him into a vision, to see him breathing, heart beating… Yuuri turned, and they locked eyes, and Victor felt as though his heart started beating in his chest again after being still ever since the news of Yuuri’s death had reached him. Yuuri smiled, and Victor stumbled forward, chasing this spectre, this ghost, fully prepared to meet nothing but air once he reached him. Yuuri looked at him with wide eyes once Victor was upon, speckles of gold sparking in the brown of his irises. The first touch of Victor’s hand against Yuuri’s warm cheek felt like being shocked back into life, the palm of his hand cupping it perfectly. Could his imagination be this vivid? Could this still be a dream?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vitya,” Yuuri breathed, and the first tear spilled from Victor’s eyes. He had thought he had no more tears in him, that he had emptied them out as he was wrenching with only dry sobs. Now they cascaded down his cheeks like rivers, Victor was unable to hold back as his other hand came to cup Yuuri’s neck. “Vitya what is the matter?” Yuuri asked, and Victor held him tighter, knees weak. Yuuri’s arms came around his waist as Victor buried his face into Yuuri’s neck, his entire body trembling as he cried. He would have collapsed if Yuuri had not been holding him, strong arms pressing them firmly together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought- I thought-” Victor hiccupped, clinging to Yuuri as if he would vanish again if he let go for even a breath, terrified of doing so. “Yuuri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Yuuri answered, as if he did not know what to say. Victor pressed his lips to his throat, feeling Yuuri’s pulse under his lips. He lived. He lived. “Let us go outside and get you some air.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri all but carried him out, but Victor did not care what anyone said about him, too preoccupied with wrapping his mind around the fact that Yuuri was in his arms, real and alive. Yuuri let him cry, fingers tangled in his hair as he whispered sweet love declarations into his ear, Victor’s back pressed against the house wall, Yuuri’s body caging him in. Victor assumed the sweet words were supposed to soothe his tears, but it did quite the opposite, Victor’s heart now hurt in the most delicious way as sobs ripped through his body, simply from hearing Yuuri’s voice again. He was not sure how long it took before he could straighten and look at Yuuri again, fingers caressing over his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, before he leaned in to press his own mouth against Yuuri’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you died,” Victor whispered against Yuuri’s lips, voice hoarse. It was the first time he had uttered the words at all. “They told me your ship sank.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Yuuri said, eyes wide as he pulled back, grip on Victor tightening. “Love, I am so sorry,” he said, one hand coming up to caress the wetness from Victor’s face. “I did not think the news reached you. We were meant to be on </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Richard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but my sister became ill the night before we meant to leave and we stayed. Our paperwork was already on the boat, but we never got on it. We came home a month ago after extending our stay. They said you had gone to Pelman Castle, and I did not know how to get in contact with you. They never said you had been informed that we had died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Victor breathed, so incredibly relieved that Yuuri had not suffered the consequences of having survived the shipwreck, that he had been safe all along. “Oh, thank goodness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been hurting this entire time?” Yuuri asked, voice so small and soft, and Victor let out a trembling sigh, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s instead of answering. Yuuri kissed him in return, and for a quiet moment, it was only them, only this, only their love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us get married now,” Victor said once Yuuri pulled back to catch his breath. They had not kissed like this ever before, never had the opportunity, but Victor wished never to stop. Yuuri’s eyes grew wide, and Victor could see how he was about to protest, the excuses Victor had fed them both sure to fall from his tongue. “No, I do not care about any of it. This,” he placed his hands over Yuuri’s heart, feeling it blissfully beat under his palm, a smile curling on his lips as he felt it. “This is all that matters to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri looked into his eyes for a long moment, and then brought Victor’s hand, which already bore his engagement ring, up to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be honored, Vitya.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>No one bothered them as they came back into the house, and Yuuri exchanged quick words with his parents as Victor stopped only long enough to promise Christophe he’d write him the next day to explain it all. Christophe let him go surprisingly easily. Perhaps his friend already understood part of it, with how Victor then swept Yuuri into the night and into his carriage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Yuuri said as he pressed close to Victor’s side, fingers laced together as Yuuri pressed kisses to the underside of Victor’s jaw. They were breaking all the rules society had set up between them, the rules they had set for themselves, but Victor did not care in the slightest. He would call for a wedding ceremony tomorrow if need be. He would not let Yuuri out of his sight, he could not. He was sure that if he did, he would convince himself that this was the sweetest of dreams, and would plummet into darkness once more. “I am so sorry to have caused you such pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was not your fault,” Victor sighed, tipping Yuuri’s chin up for another kiss. “I could not bear living without you Yuuri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will never have to again,” Yuuri promised, and Victor smiled, and kissed him again, sweet and soft. “I will be with you always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Victor’s turn to carry Yuuri once they arrived, Yuur’s legs scandalously wrapped around his waist as Victor walked into the manor. The servants said nothing and Victor could not part from Yuuri’s lips long enough to give them an explanation. Yuuri was warm and real in his grip, and never before had the stairs been so easy to climb as they were with Yuuri’s breaths mixing with his own, quick steps taking them into the bedchamber. He laid Yuuri down on the plush bed carefully, and then stopped to simply look as ink black hair spilled over white sheets, Yuuri’s cheeks matching the shade of his kiss swollen lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like an angel,” Victor said as he started to open first Yuuri’s dark tailcoat and then his waistcoat. Victor had thought of this moment countless times since they exchanged their engagement vows, but he had always assumed it would be on their wedding night. It felt like it did not matter now. “How glad I am to have you here my love,” he said, pushing the garments off Yuuri’s shoulders. He placed them on the chair close to the bed, and then moved on to Yuuri’s  shoes, and then pants and then shirtsleeves. Soon he was bare on the bed, and Victor’s eyes and fingertips roamed over his skin. Yuuri’s breath came in small huffs as it left his mouth, a blush painting all the way down his chest. “How I have longed for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have as well,” Yuuri said, pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed. He worked open Victor’s own clothes with swift fingers, garment after garment landing on the floor as he became more and more bare. Each and every touch of Yuuri’s fingers on Victor’s skin sent sparks rushing through his veins, feeling like he was coming back to life once more. Once they were both bare, having mapped out each other’s bodies with their fingers and mouths, they settled into bed. Their lips locked together as Yuuri worked his fingers into him, oil warm inside Victor as Yuuri spread him open. Yuuri’s lips were pressed to his own in fevered wet kisses, and Victor gasped and rocked his hips up to meet Yuuri’s fingers on every thrust, feeling so safe with him resting above him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have you now?” Yuuri asked, voice dark. It sent ripples of anticipation though Victor’s veins, and he nodded, spreading his legs wider as Yuuri shuffled into place. Yuuri’s eyes were dark with lust, and Victor wanted to be the only one to ever see him this way, bite and suck marks scattered across his neck and torso all the way to his groin, hair tousled, cheeks aflame. Alive and loved, and Victor’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please take me Yuuri,” Victor pleaded, and Yuuri pressed the head of his cock to Victor’s entrance, just as Victor wanted. He gasped, and Yuuri moaned deeply, and then slowly sunk in, making Victor truly his. Their hands locked together on either side of Victor’s head, and Yuuri started rolling his hips, steady and sure, bringing pleasure to them both alongside the storm of emotions rushing in Victor’s chest. “Oh, oh, my love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel so good Vitya,” Yuuri gasped, the grip he had on Victor’s hands tightening. “So tight and perfect around me. So warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Victor moaned, meeting Yuuri’s hips with his own, watching as Yuuri bit into his lower lip from the pleasure. He was beautiful and breathtaking, and everything VIctor would ever want in this world. He was fully sure now. “You fill me so well. So well, Yuuuri aaah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sought pleasure from each other’s bodies until both of them were trembling, Yuuri’s hand caressing from his raised hand down his chest, all the way down to wrap around Victor’s cock, pulling with long strokes. Victor arched off the bed as Yuuri did, panting and shaking. It was so much, having Yuuri here, in him, above him, loving him so tenderly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yuuri, Yuuri,” he tried to warn, and Yuuri cursed as he nodded, the speed of his hips and hand increasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, I want you to,” Yuuri requested, and Victor let go, let the pleasure wash over him fully as Yuuri continued to take him. It was so much, all so perfect, and Victor came with a shout, his cock spurting white between their stomachs. He clenched down hard around Yuuri, and his love gasped out his name as he came, Victor feeling his cock pulsate inside him, painting him with his spend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri collapsed on top of him, and Victor found only bliss in that moment, for Yuuri was alive, and his, and safe in his arms, in his bed. Victor held him close, pressing his lips to his cheeks and lips, promising to never take this for granted ever again. They would face obstacles and trials, but they would stand together, and Victor would never choose anything before Yuuri for as long as they both lived. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think in the comment section or on other platforms like:<br/><a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/linisen">Tumblr</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/mjaoue">Twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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